


Catch and Release

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Foreplay elf style?, NSFW, Romance, playful romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although she was one of the best hunters in her clan, Remli is never quite able to catch Solas unawares. Somehow, even when she uses her best tracking skills, he always knows exactly where to find her. Set during a non-specific time of the romance. Solavellan fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baiting the Trap

Remli was watching him again.

Well, perhaps watching was not quite correct. _Stalking_ , as a hunter tracks her prey; waiting, observing her target, preparing for the perfect moment before going in for the kill. 

He was impressed. She was quiet, treading lightly, pausing and only moving closer as he shifted or made movements of his own. Amid the noises of the scholars above and the racket of the birds in the room’s rafters, it would take a well-trained ear to discern the stealthy movements of an elf on the prowl. Solas felt a smile tug at the corner of his lip. Of course, he was not a normal target, and his senses were more acute than most. He’d used the tactic himself many times, a lifetime ago. 

_Let’s play then, Lavellan,_ he thought, striding over to the desk and picking up a stack of papers to idly skim. He felt her move in time with him, could trace her steps as she circled him from above, trying to shift into position. She came to rest directly behind him, in an area usually occupied by a large table. 

_Standing on the table, goodness, the staff will titter about this later._ He resisted the urge to look up, to catch her in whatever crouch she had upon the railing above. She was very still, commendable, given the fact that the table was a rickety old thing that rocked when weight was placed upon it. _Will you jump, strike from above? Or will you creep up from the shadows, try to catch me unawares?_

He bit down another grin, placing the papers back on the desk and turning abruptly, walking in her direction to ‘study’ the mural painted on the wall. There was only a slight flicker of movement above.

 _Impressive,_ he thought, feeling her slip around the room above, hearing the soft tread of her feet upon the stone steps. He debated if he should move again, take up a spot on the couch where he could watch her descent and catch her in the act. But it had been a long time since he’d played such games, and the chance to draw it out, even a few more heartbeats, urged him to raise his voice.

“Dorian, have you see the Inquisitor?” he called, walking to stand closer to the desk again. A few heartbeats later, the human mage stuck his head over the railing.

“I can’t say I have, not recently anyway,” replied Dorian, looking the picture of innocence. He shrugged, quite a feat, given that he was leaning against the railing with most of his weight. 

“Perhaps try the garden? She did mention needing to go check on the flowers, something about Cole asking about the feelings of bees. I’ve stopped asking at this point. Why, did you need her for something?” 

It was Solas’ turn to shrug. “It is of no matter, I will speak to her later. My thanks.” Dorian frowned, clearly unconvinced, but Solas walked over to the desk to examine the shard, and the human pushed away from the ledge to return to his usual alcove. 

Solas felt her waiting there, by the door, trying to choose the perfect moment to strike. She hovered at the edge of the doorway, waiting for him to shift positions again. He chuckled under his breath, started walking in the opposite direction of the stairs, then let out a burst of magic that cloaked him from sight. Then, he moved to the side, prepared to wait.

Remli did not disappoint. As soon as he had turned, she’d started into the room, silent and swift. He was faster, though, and she skidded to a halt halfway into the room when she found it empty.

“Solas?” she called, pursing her lips and scanning the room. He smiled, crept up behind her and dropped the spell as he wrapped arms around her. She yelped, and he narrowly missed getting a headbutt that would have resulted in a broken nose. She squirmed a little, trying to glare at him over her shoulder.

“You cheated!” she accused, even as she raised a hand to cover his own. 

“Ah, Vhenan,“ he murmured, leaning in to silence her with a brief kiss, “cheating is such a relative term. I believe the term you are looking for is ‘out-played.’”

She leaned up to give him a longer kiss, turning to face him and bring up her hands to draw him down to her. In turn, he shifted his hold, bringing her closer and returning the kiss with enthusiasm.

After a few moments, they broke apart, Remli’s face flushed and her hair slightly askew. She tilted her head at him, studying his face.

“How do you do it?” she asked, “No matter where we are, or how I approach, you always know exactly where I am. It’s rather frustrating when I’m trying to ambush you.”

He chuckled, smirking down at her. “And what would you do, should you happen to catch me unawares?” This earned him a swift, wicked grin.

“Oh, Vhenan, after bagging such a trophy, I would be obliged to keep you in my room to rest in a place of honor so I could get a good look at you every night before I fell asleep. Although I would first need to ensure that I had not inadvertently injured you, of course,” she released her hold on his neck to trace the neckline of his tunic. “I’d hate to see you come to any harm.”

“How magnanimous. It is good, then, that I am the one who caught you,” he replied, tightening his grip on her a bit. She laughed as he nipped her neck, and poked him in the ribs in retaliation.

“Stop changing the subject,” she chided him, bringing up her hand to pull him away from her ear. “I truly want to know—how do you always know where I am? And don’t say something cheesy, like the heart can sense when its other half is near, or something equally awful that Varric would write in his book.“

He brought his hand up to close around hers, silently, and turned it so that her palm faced them. The mark’s scar flared a little as he fed magic through his touch, and she felt the tingling answer of the magic within the scar.

“Fenedhis,” she swore, glaring at the culprit. “You can sense the magic. Does that mean I can’t sneak up on any mages?” she asked, turning to look up at him. He shook his head, reassuring her, and linked his hand with hers, covering the mark.

“I can sense the Fade, not the magic, of the mark,” he explained, giving her a slight squeeze. “It is similar to Cole, except you do not flicker here and there, and he does not hover, waiting and watching. A normal mage would not sense the magic, but the pull of the Fade is strong, and its signature within your palm sings to me across any space.”

“I suppose that makes me feel a little better,” she said, although she pouted a little. “I’ll just have to ask Cole to help me figure out how to flit around like a spirit, then you won't know it’s not him until it’s too late.”

“You can certainly try,” he said, feeling the call of his own magic sing back to him through her palm. Cole could try to teach her, but in the end he would always feel the pull of the magic lost to him. He lowered her hand to his chest, using the other to press her closer as he leaned down to kiss her again.

When they broke apart, she grinned up at him, peeking through her lashes. “Was that my consolation prize?” she asked, tilting her head. He chucked, shaking his head. 

“Far from it. I, too, prefer the game of catch and release,” he said, using the hand around her waist to guide her towards the door. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “And I plan to release you several times before I let you go.”


	2. The Thrill of the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is flat-out NSFW. You have been warned.

She hoped the dim light in the main hall would mask the flush on her face, or at least allow her to play it off as a trick of the firelight. Given the fact that Solas still held on to her, loose but insistent, their intentions were probably not as subtle as she would have liked. She also felt a ridiculous grin trying to creep across her face, which would also spoil any pretense of innocence.

With his position by the door and his attention to detail, Varric noticed immediately.

“Far be it from me to get in the way of anything that might end up a juicy side-note in your biography,” drawled the dwarf, grinning at them over his letter-writing. He waved the quill at them, leaning over the desk to warn them, “But as your friend it is my duty to remind you two lovebirds that Ruffles set up a very important dinner with some of our guests.”

Remli flushed but stuck out her tongue at the writer as they closed the door to the rotunda. “We’ll be down in time, Varric. But if we’re running a few minutes late, perhaps you can entertain our guests with some stories?”

Varric laughed and raised his hand to shoo them away. “If you’re not there when the soups on the table, it won’t be Dorian she sends,” he said. “If you’re lucky, she’d send Seeker, but who knows, if she’s angry enough she’s send in the Iron Lady, and then where would you be?”

Remli laughed, although her eyes did glance up to said mage’s favorite overlook, half-expecting the woman’s keen gaze upon them. It was Solas who got her moving again, nudging her forward with a gentle push against her lower back. As they continued on their way, he turned to look over his shoulder at the writer, flashing Varric a brief conspiratorial grin.

“A chapter,” he murmured, ushering Remli ahead, “or, at the very least, a recurring theme.” Varric sat slack-jawed for several heartbeats before he barked out a surprised laugh.

“Oh Chuckles, for that alone you’ve earned yourselves an extra-special Champion story that never fails to thrill and distract for a good 15 to 20 minutes,” laughed the dwarf, shooing them away. He watched them slip through the people idling in the Great Hall, then returned to his work, a new chapter already forming in the back of his mind. 

\--

Solas’ hand was warm against her hip, a lingering weight that both reassured and thrilled. For someone so reticent in public and hesitant to respond to her advances, he was surprisingly sensitive and inclined to touch in private. She rested her head against his shoulder, taking in his scent and listening to the gentle beat of his heart.

They’d had few moments like this to steal for any length of time, and most of their romance had been stolen kisses and gentle touches in passing. Their rare nights together had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced—not that she’d had that many trysts to compare, but what time they did have had passed far too quickly, and she was always loathe to leave his side when duty called her away. 

When the door was firmly shut behind them, Solas released her at last, patting her on the behind to urge her up the stairs while he turned to lock the door. She laughed, peeking over her shoulder as she headed up to the room. 

“Worried about Vivienne?” she joked. He cast a sigil over the door, tracing his long fingers along the wooden frame and circling the metal of the lock. Her step faltered as she focused on those fantastic fingers, remembering the feel of them as they traced over the vallaslin hidden by her clothes.

“One learns to take precautions when privacy is required,” he replied with a smile. His eyes flickered over to her, and the grin grew as he noticed her rapt interest. “I will be up momentarily, allow me to finish this.”

She grinned and bolted up the stairs, a plan forming as she took the stairs two at a time. Perhaps the hunt was not quite over.

 

\--

A few minutes later, Solas paused at the top of the stairs, surveying the room to see where Remli had run. A good portion of the room was taken up by the Inquisition’s most recent acquisition—some sort of upgraded monstrosity from the Free Marches, a strange collection of mismatched linens and truly awful carved posts surrounded by thick curtains and tassels. He never thought he would ever say that he missed sleeping on the slab of stone Remli had assured him was a Dwarven bed.

Still, he did not need to look far. There was an elf shaped mound under the covers on the bed, and he could hear her breathless laugh. He padded over to the bed, standing by the mattress and taking note of how still the mound was. She was close—too close to pinpoint where, exactly, the stifled giggles were coming from. The lump was a bit too obvious, clearly a baited trap. Under the bed, or perhaps in the loft? Behind one of the curtains? 

A creak above him was all the warning he received. She swung over the canopy top, and while he turned in time to catch her, he went with the motion and fell back on the bed, Remli atop him. She kneeled on his arms, effectively pinning him in place, and ran a hand along his chest.

“It seems the tables have turned, Vhenan,” she purred, rocking back a little on her haunches to ease the pressure on his arms. It also left her at a perfect angle to brush against him, ever so gently, eliciting a quick intake of breath. “And now that I have caught you…” 

She leaned forward again, claiming his mouth while her hands worked their way under his tunic, tugging at the collar to expose skin. He returned the kisses enthusiastically, but when his hands rose to find her waist, she batted them away.

“You’re stuck in my trap, remember?” she chided, peeling back the turtleneck as she nipped at his chin. “Let me make sure that you haven’t inadvertently harmed yourself trying to escape.” 

Rebellious, he settled his hands upon her thighs, so she used a bit more suction than was absolutely necessary when she resumed kissing him just above the neckline of his collar. 

“What happened to making sure that I didn’t come to any harm?” Solas laughed, bringing up a hand to pull her away from his neck. He could feel the slight burn of the abused skin, but she shrugged, fingers running along his cheek and settling on his lips to shush him.

“Clearly I’ve bagged a worthy trophy and I am now marking my territory,” she grinned, dropping her hands to gently slide the jawbone’s cords over his head.

He made a ‘hmm’ noise, fingers sneaking under the hem of her tunic. “I am not sure that is quite how it works,” he murmured, and she laughed, slapping his hands down again.

“As master huntress of Clan Lavellan, I can tell you with absolute certainty that this is exactly how it’s done,” she laughed, leaning forward to silence him with another kiss, “and part of a hunter’s training is knowing how best to distract their prey so they can go in for the kill,” she murmured, fingers trailing down his stomach in search of his belt buckle. His muscles twitched, and she paused, fingers hovering over the clasp.

“Ticklish?” she grinned, looping two fingers beneath the supple leather and scissoring them back and forth. He huffed out a soft laugh, twisting his hips a little to give her better access to the straps. 

“Hardly” he replied, shifting again to allow the belt to slip off, “although I do wonder about your methods. How do you know I will not dart away as soon as the trap is released?”

She shivered as he spoke, leaning into the errant hand that had magically found its way back under her shirt to fondle a breast. “It’s always a risk,” she admitted, forcing herself to focus on the laces of his breeches. She slipped a finger under the fabric, teasing with feather-light touches. “However, I hardly think you’re in a condition to get very far.” 

She locked eyes with him, pulling his hand out of her shirt and sliding her body farther away. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she leaned forward to pull the remaining laces loose with her teeth. His eyes narrowed in concentration, focused on the way her tongue ran over her lips as she tugged the fabric of his breeches and smalls down. 

She took him in her mouth, smiling around him as he let out a string of Elvhen in a tone that left little doubt as to his meaning. She’d wondered how he would react to something like this, had wondered if this might be something he would be interested in doing and had tried imagining what his reaction would be. And while the actual sensation and act was not quite what she’d imagined, if the way he clenched the sheets in his fists were any indication, she felt safe in assuming he was not displeased with her efforts.

She hummed around him, delighting in the way his muscles twitched at her touch, and listened to the way his breath caught when she moved her tongue or sucked a little harder. Using light nips interspersed with gentle kisses, she explored him thoroughly, gauging his movements to determine which things he liked the most. 

She could feel his stomach tightening, heard the catch in his throat as he panted, but before she could bring him over the edge, his hands were on her shoulders, urging her away. With surprising strength but gentleness, he pulled her face to his, devouring her mouth and pulling her body flush against his. Then, in a few decisive twists of his body, their positions were reversed and he lay on top of her, nestled between her legs, his face buried in her hair. 

Remli gasped and squirmed under the confinement, causing Solas to growl, a low rumble that became a chuckle. She let out a huff of indignation, but it turned into a yelp as he bit her in the same place she’d left her mark on him. She pulled his head away to find his lips again, and they laughed into the kiss, neither backing down. Her hands fell to grope his rear as he tugged her pants and smalls down her thighs.

“I have concerns about how easily you lower your guard when you are distracted, Da’len,” he rumbled, drawing up her legs as he adjusted their position to find a comfortable angle for them both. “We shall have to discuss it in length at a later time.” She gasped as he rocked forward, his cock slipping fully inside her before he started up a quick rhythm. 

She arched up and tried to match his pace, even as she tried to shimmy her pants down past her knees. She managed to get them down to her ankles, but they got stuck on the damned Shemlen shoes. Curse propriety and all its confounded trappings. She used what additional range of movement she’d gained to grip his sides with her thighs, even as she latched onto his tunic for leverage. 

“You think you’ve won,” she panted out in response, trying to squeeze him as he moved, her words punctuated by their thrusts. “Who s-said things aren’t g-going according to p-pla-ah! Ah!” 

She clung to him as she came, trembling at the intensity, rocking with him until he finished inside of her. They sank back onto the bed as one, sighing in content as they lay there half-clothed but fully sated. She moaned as he withdrew, stretching her arms like a cat and watching him as he padded over to the ewer and basin. He returned with wetted towels, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead as he handed her the cloth.

“I am loathe to break my promise to you,” he murmured, cleaning himself before drawing up the laces on his breeches again. “But it would not do for the Inquisitor to ignore her guests.”

Remli sighed, scrubbing the heels of her palms against her eyes. The pleasant ache of well-used muscles would soon be replaced with the familiar tension that came with any visit from nobility, forcing herself to smile through their banter and to resist the urge for physical violence. 

“I didn’t actually invite them, they just sort of showed up and Josie was too polite to tell them to leave. Still,” she said, shifting up to a sitting position, “I suppose we should stop while we’re still technically on time.” She kicked off the shoes and pants, stripping off her rumpled tunic and padding over to her wardrobe in just her breast band. 

She could hear Solas suck in breath as he watched her walk. As she opened the wardrobe to find something appropriate for dinner attire, she listened to him make his way across the room. She could feel the heat of his body even as his fingers came up to tease her breasts, then slowly made their way down her sides.

“It seems a shame to waste Varric’s generous offer,” he growled into her ear as his touch skimmed her stomach, then lower, tracing a sigil on her sensitive skin. “Time enough for one more snare, to be sure.”

He truly had some of the most fantastic fingers.

\--  
They managed to slip to the table as Varric was finishing a tale of how Hawke had taken her sister to The Blooming Rose as a birthday treat. Their Orlesian guests were wiping tears of laughter away from under their masks, clearly enchanted by the dwarf’s vivid retelling. Remli offered Varric a silent salute of thanks, raising her wine glass with a slight nod. He winked, throwing his arms wide as he described how the two Hawke sisters had been taken to jail to sleep off the night by a very flustered Aveline.

As the various courses were laid on the table, Remli made up to Josie for their lateness by peppering the couple with questions about their time in Orlais, their thoughts on the state of Thedas, and asking for their suggestions as if she was actually going to contemplate using any of it.

The whole evening was going rather well, all things considered, until she reached forward to snag a roll from the plate on the table, and the scarf she’d added as a last minute accessory snagged on the table. Her guest stopped her inane chatter, gasping in surprise.

“My Lady Inquisitor, whatever happened to you?” asked the Duchess, the Orlesian woman’s voice thick with concern. Involuntarily, Remli’s hand flew to her neck, the bruise she hadn’t quite been able to cover with the cosmetics Josie had given her now plainly visible for all to see. 

Across the table, the ambassador closed her eyes in a silent prayer to her Maker while Cullen flushed, looking everywhere but at the Inquisitor. There were similar reactions around the table, each of her friends exchanging knowing glances and varied levels of exasperation. Except for Solas, of course. Solas simply looked smug. 

“Hunting accident,” she replied, bringing the scarf back up to hide the hickey. She kicked Dorian under the table for good measure, seeing him chew on his lower lip and trying to preemptively cut off any snarky remark he might make.

“How terribly dreadful!” the noblewoman exclaimed, hand raised to cover her mouth. The Duchess was a nice enough woman, but Remli feared she was a few hallas shy of a herd. How the woman had managed to survive the Game and not get eaten alive was unfathomable.

“I do hope you were able to take down the beast!” tittered the woman, and out of the corner of her eye Remli could see Varric trying not to choke on the meat he’d just bitten into. She flashed the woman her teeth as Sera gave Varric a 'helpful’ and hearty smack on the back.

“Oh yes,” Remli purred, taking a dainty sip from her own glass, “I gave him a very decisive blow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second attempt at porn, haha. I hear it gets easier the more you write it. :P


End file.
